


Do You Know Why?

by Fae_Fiction



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Crowley is traumatized from the bookshop fire, Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Nightmares, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Queen (Band) References, Song: You're My Best Friend (Queen), and Aziraphale KNOWS, because what else would it be with these two, but Crowley is clueless, crowley is in love with aziraphale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:55:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29003325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fae_Fiction/pseuds/Fae_Fiction
Summary: Aziraphale shifted in his chair slightly, a look of concern had washed over his face.“Crowley, dear, why have you been spending so much time at the bookshop recently?”Nightmares of the fire in the bookshop had plagued him. And he couldn't help but assume with everything happening at the time that it was hellfire. And that he had lost his angel.It was realistic as all Hell, and the only difference in the dreams from that day was that he saw him. Aziraphale's discorperated body in the flames, even though that wasn't possible. It was a dream, who said it had to be realistic.And although they were their own team now, he couldn't help but worry that leaving his angel's side, leaving the bookshop would make his nightmare a reality.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 115
Collections: Good Omens Bingo 2021





	Do You Know Why?

**Author's Note:**

> At last, I have delved into the world of Good Omens and I could not be more happy with how it turned out.  
> This is my first of (hopefully) many Good Omens fics to be coming out this year for the Good Omens bingo. The prompt this time around was "The Bookshop" and "Hellfire", I was initially just going to have it fill the bookshop, didn't even realize another one of my prompts was hellfire so when I realized it fit I tagged it on as well. 
> 
> A special thank you to [ephemeral_motif](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeral_motif/) for being such a wonderful beta and a delight to work with as always. They helped out a lot with this one so thank you for that. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

There was a time when Crowley would have scoffed at, maybe even punched someone, if they told him that he would one day dislike a _Queen_ song. Especially with one with such meaning as _“You’re My Best Friend”_.

But he did. He didn’t that song anymore. 

It had become the go-to song of his nightmares. 

It started out with blackness. The song would start out normally too. The bass would swell, and the band’s voices would echo throughout the void. 

_Ooh, you make me live_

_Whatever this world can give to me_

It would crescendo… and then it would turn sour,

_Ooh, you make me live, now honey-_

And like a pianist’s hand cramped, that last high note fell short, Freddie’s voice falling half a step too low and the band’s accompanying voices rising too sharp.

And that was the cue for the lights to turn on. 

Sirens juxtaposed against the horrifically strident and shrill chorus of the fake _Queen._ The cold, pouring rain stung Crowly’s skin as it fell. And one thought raced through his mind. One word, one name:

_Aziraphale._

He ran to the shop, ignoring the firemen trying to hold him back. 

_Aziraphale!_

The flames roared around him. A blistering heat that almost immediately dried him. He choked on smoke as he heard the crackle of the burning wood and paper, melding with the dissonant track of the _Queen_ vinyl that was melting on Aziraphale’s gramophone. 

_I've been with you such a long time_

_You're my sunshine_

All was orange and hot — pages of flaming paper, embers, and ashes fell around him like the rain outside. He cried out for his Angel. 

“ _Aziraphale!_ ”

With a crashing of the glass window, the water from the firemen’s hose sent him blasting back. 

_Ooh, you make me live_

_Whenever this world is cruel to me_

_I got you to help me forgive_

With a thud, he hit something soft. But it stank worse than anything he had ever smelled, worse than the sulfur. _Burning flesh._

He turned around to see his Angel, his Aziraphale on the ground, discorperated, burning in the hellfire. 

_When things turn out bad_

_You know I'll never be lonely_

_You're my only one_

He screamed, “You’ve killed my best friend! _BASTARDS!_ ”

The fire didn’t hurt him, it never did. He shuffled over and held the lifeless Aziraphale in his arms, sobbing over his body. 

“You’ve killed him, you’ve killed my best friend—”

_Ooh, you make me live_

_Ooh, you're my best friend_

And that’s when he woke up. 

In a cold sweat, he thrust himself upright. He glared over at his clock, _3:00 am. How fitting._

He hated his flat. So cold and empty. 

He panicked. _Aziraphale._ He needed to make sure he was safe. 

Part of him just wanted to miracle over to the new bookshop, part of him knew he would get questions from Aziraphale as to why, and he didn’t want to answer them. But he had to know. 

With a snap of his fingers, he was in the bookshop, facing the couch that faced the cozy fireplace. Aziraphale was sitting calmly with a book in hand. He didn’t notice Crowley was there, so with another snap, he sent himself back to his flat. 

The only problem was, Aziraphale did notice.

Despite him knowing that Aziraphale was safe, he couldn’t go back to sleep. He stared at the ceiling, deep in thought, until the sun shone so brightly through his window that he was forced to turn over to keep from blinding.

Demons and Angels didn’t need sleep — it’s one of the distinguishing characteristics that mark them. Crowley and Aziraphale were different though. They liked to do human things. Aziraphale didn’t sleep, he much preferred the certainty of books to the uncertainty of his dreams to get lost in. Crowley, however, _loved_ sleep. He didn’t have to think if he was asleep. 

His corporation had rather got used to the practice. And the years and years of sleeping set him into a routine much similar to humans, so he tended to get a tad cranky, or more cranky than usual, if he didn’t sleep for an extended amount of time. Groggy and slow to think, and oh so grumpy and depressed. It had been months since Armageddidn’t. Meaning after he had a chance for it all to sink in, it had been a little over a month since the nightmares started. Meaning that he was much past the point of not having enough sleep. Meaning that he wasn’t really doing great. 

He rolled out of bed, miracled his clothes on, sauntered to his door and grabbed his shades off the table by said door, and left, making his way to the Bently that Adam had fixed. Aziraphale was right: with 90 years of it in perfect condition, after it was destroyed and fixed , he always knew it was there, that “ _stain."_ More like a completely destroyed car. 

Regardless, he had his car, he had his music, he had his angel. What more could he need? In truth, he only needed Aziraphale — the Bently and Queen were just formalities to try and convince himself that there were other things he took interest in. That the only thing that mattered wasn’t his friendship with the Angel, that he didn’t so desperately need him, that he didn’t lo- no. He didn’t. And Aziraphale most certainly did not either. _Pft,_ he scoffed at his own hopefulness. _Angels can’t even care about demons._ But neither should demons care about angels. Angels don’t dance, don’t eat. Demons don’t sleep, don’t love. Aziraphale loved crepes and sushi, and he very much enjoyed dancing the Gavotte. Crowley loved Aziraphale, and if his slow driving proved anything, he slept. Or rather, tried to. 

It wasn’t long before he arrived in Soho at the bookshop of one A. Z. Fell. 

He got out and slammed the car door shut in his typical fashion and walked into the bookshop. The small bell above the door twinkled gleefully.

The bookshop, for all intents and purposes, _was_ Crowley’s home. It felt loved. The opposite of spooky, and while he did like spooky, ‘loved’ was so much better. He loved how cozy and… for lack of better words... _intimate_ it was. He loved the scented candles that Aziraphale had set up all over — the warm mix of tonka bean, amber, vanilla, and a smidge of musk. He loved the smell of the old books and faded leather. He loved the soft fabrics and tartan blankets draped over the furniture, pillows with tassels that smelled of dust, something strangely charming. He loved the intricate rugs. And he loved the sunlight from that skylight. The way the floating dust motes caught it and flew around like something magical. It was quiet and distinctly angelic. 

“I’m sorry,” came Aziraphale’s cheery voice from behind a bookshelf. “ — but we aren’t open yet.”

“Morning, Angel,” Crowley called out. 

“Oh!” Aziraphale said, delighted in surprise at the demon's appearance. He walked around to the center, he carried a book under his arm, a mug of cocoa in one hand, and a plate with a few croissants and strawberries and cream in the other. He seemed perplexed, “You’re here early,” but it quickly faded into a bright smile. “It’s nice to see you, Crowley.”

“Just was in the area, thought I might pop in,” he said as if he didn’t practice the line in the car. 

“Right,” not quite convinced, Aziraphale furrowed his brows. “Would you like to join me for breakfast?”

“Lovely idea,” he replied. 

Aziraphale briefly upturned the corners of his mouth and nodded in the direction of a small desk in the corner with a couch. He began over, and Crowley followed with his hands in his pockets. Aziraphale moved aside some papers on its surface, set down his food, and turned to Crowley.

“Can I get you anything?”

“I’m fine. Thanks.”

This wasn’t the first time that Crowley had had the nightmare, and he was sure it probably wouldn’t be the last. But this also wasn’t the first time he popped over to Aziraphale’s as soon as possible. As soon as possible usually meant when the bookshop opened, or later if he did manage to go back to sleep. It wasn’t the first time he had miracled over in the middle of the night either. He did that the first time he had the nightmare, just to make sure he wasn’t predicting the future or anything absurd. It was the second time he popped over in the middle of the night; it was the first time Aziraphale noticed. It would be the last time he had the nightmare in that cold unforgiving flat of his, however.

“So, what are you reading this time?” Crowley pointed to the book that sat on the desk next to his plate. 

“Oh, this?” Aziraphale said as picked up said book.

Crowley gave a single nod.

“The Tempest.”

“I rather liked that one,” Crowley smiled. “One of his good gloomy ones.”

“Remember when we used to see his shows?” 

“How could I forget?” _How could he forget any moment spent with him? It was nearly impossible._

“Bittersweet,” Aziraphale frowned. “Seeing the last showing of this one. Knowing he would stop writing.”

“Yeah,” was all the demon managed. A sharp inhale followed, “Liked going back then. Quieter.”

“Just us and a few other people, they paid no mind to us and we paid no mind to them. Just enjoy the show and —” he cut himself off, clearing his throat.

“And?” Crowley prompted.

“Right,” Aziraphale said pointedly. “It was nice.”

“Indeed.” _Did he just say ‘indeed’? Since when did he say ‘indeed’?_

The chime of an old grandfather clock interrupted them. 

“Would you look at the time?” Aziraphale pulled out his pocket watch, “Time to open up. You could come out here with me, I’ll just be reading and helping customers.” He stood up. “Or you could sit back here, read — who am I kidding, you don’t read.”

The demon laughed.

“You could do that, or take a nap? You’re here early so you’re probably tired.”

Maybe now that he was in the bookshop he could actually sleep. Might be nice. 

“Thanks, Angel. I think that sounds like a good idea.”

“Let me know if you need anything, my dear.”

“Will do,” Crowley said as Aziraphale walked off.

And it didn’t take much effort to fall asleep. He was with Aziraphale, he was safe. The cozy familiar bookshop surrounding him made it simple. 

_Crowley awoke in the bookshop. Everything seemed to be in order. Only that_ blasted _song was playing on the gramophone._

_“I do hope you enjoy it,” he heard the angel’s voice say as the last customer of the day walked out the door._

_He stood up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, walking out into the bookshop._

_“Hey, angel_ — _”_

_He had expected the angel to turn around at the first syllable he spoke, just like he always did. But Aziraphale didn’t hear. He was humming some jolly tune as he locked the door._

_“Angel?”_

_He turned around but said nothing, didn’t even look at Crowley._

_“Aziraphale?”_

_The angel walked straight through him._

_“AZIRAPHALE YOU BASTARD I DON’T KNOW WHAT IN HEAVEN YOU’RE TRYING TO GET AT HERE_ — _”_

_The joyful ring of the bell over the front door was heard._

_“I’m terribly sorry,” the angel began, “but we are clos_ — _”_

_“Time to go, Aziraphale.”_

_Gabriel._

_Oh, he wanted to punch that smug look off that motherfucker’s face, off all three of them’s._

_“We know,” Uriel added._

_Aziraphale turned around, he looked panicked, he had never seen the angel in such a way before. Even in 1793, 1862, 1941. Nothing compared to this. Nothing compared to the way tears welled in his eyes despite him not being human. Nothing compared to the way his chest stilled as if he stopped breathing, despite him not needing to breathe. Nothing compared to the way his hands trembled at his sides, the way he brought them together and wrung them nervously._

_He turned around, “Oh, make me fall, will you? So be it.” And there was a confidence to his voice despite his demeanor, and Crowley knew that he meant the words._

Oh, angel, _he thought._ You have no idea what you’re in for. 

_“Maybe I can finally be with Crowley if I became a demon. You’d be doing me a favor, really.”_ Angel, I love you just the way you are — wait — _be_ with me? No…

_“We know just that,” Michael said. “That’s why we’re not here to have you fall,” she snapped. The doorbell rang again as a demon entered._

_With a snap from Gabriel, all three of them ascended into a heavenly light and they were gone. The demon had a clipboard and read off a note, “Aziraphale, by order of the… the,” they pointed up, “you will be executed by hellfire.” And before he had any time to respond, he was up in flames, the entire shop was up in flames._

_“ANGEL!” Crowley cried as Aziraphale screamed. He ran towards him, trying to snap the fire away, but it was too late. And this time, there was no body behind. “Aziraphale! No… no no no!” He fell to the ground and sobbed, curling his head inward, on his knees. “NO!”_

_He mumbled as he blubbered, “He wanted to be with me… and they took him away. They killed him.” Oh, God was just as bad as Satan himself, if not worse. He had words for Her, but he couldn’t manage to speak them at the moment. All he could manage to do was repeat the name of his beloved, as if the chant could bring him back._

_“Aziraphale, Aziraphale…”_

“‘Zriapale-Azira-” he cried. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale shook Crowley’s shoulder, “Dearest? Wake up.”

Crowley opened his eyes to see the angel staring down at him with eyes soft and concerned. 

_Of course, it was just a dream._ He should have known as soon as Aziraphale said he wanted to be with him, _well,_ when he walked through him, _well,_ when the song that has literally been playing in all of his dreams almost nightly for a month played. Really, the whole thing screamed “dream” and he should have known instantly.

He was crying, _Satan,_ why was he crying?! It was just a dream, just a dream, and he was awake now, and Aziraphale was there with him. 

“Crowley?” he said, “is everything all right?” 

He sniffed and swatted the notion away as he sat up. “Yeah, yeah. All good.”

Aziraphale sat beside him on the couch. “You seemed to be having a bad dream.”

“No, no. I don’t dream,” he reached for his shades that fell to the floor and put them on.

Aziraphale frowned. “Don’t put them on. We’re closed up now.”

Crowley shivered, remembering what happened when the shop closed in his dream. 

On instinct of protectiveness, he stood up and jogged over to the front door. 

“Crowley? What is going on with you?” Aziraphale called after him.

He glared out the window with a serpent-like gaze. Panning over the street from the center of the corner, he shuffled around and checked every window, ignoring Aziraphale’s calls of growing concern.

He turned around, “Angel, I have to check on something, but I’ll be right back. Stay put and don’t let anyone in, do you hear me?” Aziraphale looked on confused, about to interrupt when Crowley firmly placed his hands on his shoulders. “No matter who or _what_ they are, do not let them in. Call for me if anyone comes in. Got it?”

Sure, it was just a dream. All of them were just dreams, and he always checked on Aziraphale after, and he was always ok. But this dream was different. He’s never had a dream like that. Same basic structure, the song, the fire, Aziraphale dies… but this one? It _must_ mean something. 

The angel nodded. Sure that letting Crowley do what he wanted would bring him some peace. He was clearly shaken up, and just getting it out of his system may help. But… then again, the demon wasn’t easily scared. Whatever it is, it must be bad. Regardless, he trusted Crowley with everything in him. 

Crowley stepped outside. It was dark already, a slight chill hung in the air. He scanned his surroundings and none of the people walking by felt angelic _or_ demonic. Even in the far distance, no one was seen, no one that he should be worried about. And he needed to get back to the shop, they could miracle themselves in after all. He didn’t like that at all. _Oh, why did he leave Aziraphale alone?!_

He ran back into the shop to see Aziraphale standing where Crowley had left him. Still just as confused. 

Crowley sighed in relief. There he was, standing there waiting for him, just as precious as ever. 

“What was that all about?” Aziraphale asked with a tilt of his head.

_Quick! Think!_

“‘S nothing,” he shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Fine then,” the angel said. “Would you care to have a drink with me?”

“Fuck yes,” he said throwing his head back dramatically.

Drinking with these two always meant they would end up pissed, which they did. But this time, asking Crowley for a drink was less of a nice, “Hey, come hang out with me” gesture and more of a “I have a question I need to ask that I’m too afraid to ask sober and clearly you don’t want to answer any of my questions truthfully sober so let’s both get drunk!” gesture. 

They sat on a couch in the back of the bookshop whilst the crackling fireplace cast a warm glow over their drunkenly flushed faces. Aziraphale was still mostly upright, although he seemed to be achieving this by leaning on his elbow that perched over the armrest on the right side of the sofa. On the opposite side sat Crowley. The demon had thrown all properness out the window as he slumped over bonelessly, almost pushing a cushion out of place with his arse. One arm was slung around the back of the couch while the other flung around with his wine glass, and by some miracle, no matter how much he flailed it about, not a drop of wine was spilled. 

“‘An I was jus’ walkin’ by,” Crowley said. He was telling a particularly interesting story, that he had somehow never managed to tell the angel before, about the time he was in some rainforest in the 1680s. Some sort of… he wasn’t sure what, the point was he was there for a job. Colonialism and all, real dastardly work. He wasn’t the architect, just sort of was there. “Walkin’ by and I heard like ‘whoop!’ ‘An I turn around ‘an see a monkey!”

“A monkey?” asked Aziraphale as he topped off his glass once again. 

“Damn right a monkey. With its long curly tail, swingin’ ‘round like it owned the place.”

“To be fair. It is a monkey,” Aziraphale chortled, “Monkey-ing around.”

“ _Oh_ , good one, angel!” he snorted. “But the point is… I was walkin’ by —”

“You already said that, dear.”

“So the monkey, right? It’s hanging upside down by its tail, ‘an lookin’ right at me. ‘An I said, ‘Wot are you lookin’ at?’ ‘An you know what it does?” Crowley paused for dramatic effect, and to take another sip of his wine. “It sticks its tongue out at me!”

Aziraphale said nothing. 

“It sticks its tongue out at me, so I do the same… ‘an it jumps on my head!” Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “Like a little monkey hat,” he continued “Just sits right on my head.”

“You know,” the angel began, pointing lazily at Crowley. “That’s what I like ‘bout you. You’re so… likable. All creatures can see it.”

Aziraphale braced for Crowley to argue back that he most certainly was not likable. But instead, he seemed to not have noticed the compliment, taking a large gulp of wine. And he suddenly remembered why he had gotten them drunk in the first place. 

Aziraphale shifted in his chair slightly, a look of concern had washed over his face. 

“Crowley, dear, why have you been spending so much time at the bookshop recently?”

_Well, angel, it’s just that I’ve been having horrible recurring nightmares where you die, that’s all._

Crowley simply stared at Aziraphale. 

“Not that I don’t enjoy your company, darling. I do love it — it’s just… you’ve been a little… well... You haven’t been yourself lately. And I’m worried.”

“How long is lately?” he spoke up after a somewhat concerning length of silence 

“Since… well, since we stopped ar-amy-armege… the end.”

_Well, he was fucked._

“Why didn’ you bring it up sooner?”

“Because I thought if I could give you time — what kind of question is that?”

“Why didn’ you tell me you noticed… wot did you notice essacly?”

“Well, for starters you’ve been very clingy.”

Crowley scoffed in a panic.

“You’ve been spending most of your time around me, you barely let me out of your sight. And then when you leave and come back you act different. Odd.”

“Ima demon. I act odd for your lot —”

“Regardless, I’m worried about you, Crowley. You seem a bit depressed. And I just want to make sure —” 

He stood up abruptly. “There’s nothing you need to make sure of, angel! I’m ok. I promise. You don’ need to be constantly worryin’ about me! And maybe there is something botherin’ me. But that’s none of your business —” _Oh, fuck! Curse alcohol._

“What’s bothering you?”

“Jus’, I don’t know,” he slumped back on the couch. “It’s nothing. I jus’ was there when the bookshop burnt down.”

“That’s not _nothing_ , dear.”

“Yea it’s nothing. Jus’ a few nightmares is all.”

“All right, why is it bothering you if it’s nothing?” he folded his hands in his lap.

_Was he really doing this?_ “I was there,” _He was really doing this._ “When the bookshop burnt down.”

“I know that,” he rolled his eyes. “How else would you have gotten Agnes’ book?”

“I thought it was hellfire.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said slowly, and suddenly it all made sense. 

“I thought they killed you, angel.” 

He laughed nervously, “Well... here I am!”

“There you are,” he gestured sloppily. He felt a hot lump rise in his throat, and the corners of his eyes began to sting with tears. “But it was bad. I thought I’d lost you. I can’t lose you.” _There it was. The stupid alcohol making him cry. And he didn’t even have his glasses on. Fuck._

“Crowley…” he said softly. 

“An’ I have nightmares. That’s wot that was. ‘Ery night I dream I’m there when it burns, only in my dreams I see your body burning. Can’t sleep anymore.”

“So that’s why you miracled over at 3 am, to make sure I was alright? That’s why you come around more? Why you come by as early as possible?”

“Yea,” he managed. 

Aziraphale leaned forward to put down his wine, and with some convincing, he took Crowley’s too. 

Confused, Crowley said, “Wot are you doing, angel?”

“Making a point,” he stated. 

He shuffled closer to Crowley, who sat up straighter, who turned as stiff as a board when the angel took both of his hands. 

“Ngk,” said Crowley.

“I need you to know I’m not going anywhere. Do you know that?”

Flustered, the demon nodded. 

“And I’m not going to let anyone take me. Okay?”

Once more, the demon nodded.

“And no way in hell, am I going to leave you. Understood?”

And it was hard to convince him of this one, but finally, he nodded. 

“Do you know why?”

He was in the habit of nodding, so he began to nod before he shook his head. 

“Because I love you.”

Crowley’s heart began to swell and fill with hope before his inner consciousness brought him back down to Earth, popping his balloon that he _was_ flying to space in. And he _was_ having a very nice time, thank-you-very-much.

_Surely he didn’t mean it like_ that, _did he? He couldn’t. No. He’s drunk._

“You’re drunk, angel. You don’ know wot you’re sayin’.”

“I do, though. I do know what I’m saying,” he leaned in closer and Crowley inched away nervously. “I just don’t think _you_ know what _I’m_ saying.”

“I’m well aware of wot you’re sayin’, angel,” he ripped his hands away from Aziraphale’s with an effort. “I just don’ think you know wot _you're_ sayin', wot those words mean to me.”

“No. I do know, I’m not thick. I love you.”

“Stop sayin’ that.”

“I love you.”

“Stop it!”

“Fine,” he grumbled and slumped back into the couch. Crowley looked over to see him pouting. 

“Aziraphale,” he said softly. 

He ignored him.

“Zira.” 

He looked over to Crowley with crossed arms and then turned away once more. 

“Angel.”

“I guess I was wrong,” he blurted.

“Wrong?” the demon questioned. 

“All those things you did for me, what about 1941? That was a _friendly_ gesture? In ‘67 you weren’t asking — Oh dear, I think I’ve severely misread the situation.”

“Wot are you talking about, angel?”

“I’m beginning to think that you’re the one too drunk for this conversation.”

“Nonsense,” he waved.

“Ok, then what am I talking about?”

Crowley blinked twice and then sighed, rolling his eyes heavily, “Oh alright,” willing away the alcohol with an effort. Aziraphale did the same. The bottles around them filled once more and for a moment, the fire seemed much too bright before the world centered around them and they were fully cognate again.

“Oh…” Crowley gasped. Well, he certainly had fucked up royally. But even still, there was a glimmer of hope.

“ _Oh?_ ” Aziraphale asked with a frown. 

“Oh,” Crowley confirmed. “You _do_ love me.”

“Yes,” he said quietly, refusing to make eye contact with him, refusing to even look at him, he stared at his lap ashamed.

“But... not as friends?” Crowley leaned over. 

“No,” he stuttered. “I’m sorry.”

But it was in refusing to look at the demon that he made a fatal mistake. Because Crowley was smiling wide as ever. 

“Look at me, angel.” 

But he still refused.

“I’m sorry, I’m dreadfully sorry. I- I spent all these years thinking you — but you don’t, and I’m sorry that I thought you did —”

“Angel —” he said soft and insistent.

“No, I need to get it all out.”

Crowley reached over and turned Aziraphale’s head to him, cupping his cheek softly. The angel blushed furiously and diverted his gaze. 

“Look at me, angel.”

With quite the effort Aziraphale met Crowley’s gaze. His amber eyes filled with wonder, and he could tell that the demon was deep in thought. About what, he couldn’t tell. He never could. But by God, was he beautiful. Were he drunk, maybe he would have said so.

“Crowley…” he said in a hushed tone, a question of a name, his slate eyes sparked with hopeful tears. 

“Aziraphale…” he replied as his slender fingers moved back ever so slightly to guide him closer. His other hand found its place on the soft fabric of his upper sleeve, gripping his arm gently, afraid to let go.

Their hearts pounded in their chests, and the world felt slightly heavier and lighter all the same as Crowley didn’t back off. He knew now. He knew everything, and even still it was possibly a bad idea. Aziraphale sat petrified as his eyes widened, even still, Crowley for once in his life was going too slow for him. Aziraphale’s breath caught in his chest as Crowley's breath tickled his cheek, he was so close, but still so far away. 

Then the demon’s voice dropped to a low murmur, and the words turned into ghosts that flew past his lips, “I love you,” before connecting.

Slowly, questioningly, he brushed his lips against Aziraphale’s, and he returned with the strongest of answers. He allowed himself to be pulled closer to Crowley, he wrapped his arms around Crowley’s waist, and one traveled up his back softly before threading his fingers through his fiery hair. 

The demon shivered at the touch, sending himself further into the angel’s glowing warmth and radiance. The warmth of heavenly love and divine devotion. And they knew they had each other's eternity. Crowley deepened the kiss, pressing closer into Aziraphale, rubbing his thumb along his cheek and wrapping his other arm around the angel’s neck.

Aziraphale hummed, moving his lips against his soft with an undertone of hunger. A hunger that had burned for too long — 6,000 years — he was starving. But despite this, he savored the meal slowly with the appreciative tongue of the culinary connoisseur that he was. 

And Crowley… well, Crowley just about squeaked. The angel laughed against his lips before diving in deeper. 

It was a moment that seemed frozen in time. Maybe it was, who knew? All that mattered was they were together now. And something about it felt so undeniably right, despite the fact that by all laws of the universe, it shouldn’t be. It makes you wonder what She really has planned.

After all… it was ineffable. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to update you all on the progress of DGATWSOR, chapter 24 will be coming soon, I've just been having a bit of trouble with it. I would much rather delay posting it than to post a half-assed chapter. I just I will be trying to work on that as well as my AU, which one will come first? I have no clue but my money is on chapter 24 coming out first.


End file.
